


The Foundling

by Mikkeneko



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/pseuds/Mikkeneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurogane thought that he'd made peace with his past, and left it behind to travel the worlds. But when a summons back to his homeworld comes from the source he least expects it, Kurogane must face the realization that he was never at peace with himself. Not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I went through several different titles before settling on this one. The one I really wanted to use, and the one it's titled by on my hard drive, could not be used because it would basically give away the plot from the word go. The published version of this fic went through five different name changes before I finally settled on this one.

He has dreams sometimes, dreams about the night that Suwa burned.

In the dreams, he can see all the details that he blocked out from his waking eyes. In the dreams, he can see the castle burning, the strangely delicate flames that licked up the side of the crenellations under the heavy belching cloud of crimson smoke. In the dreams, he can see the bodies - the people of Suwa, hacked and scattered in the streets, crushed and burning under the falling rubble.

In his dreams he can see the sinuous forms of the demons sliding slowly through the streets, burnished-black scales reflecting the orange glow.

In his dreams he can smell the smoke, choking him with ashes, the wind full of the taste of charring human flesh.

He wakes from these dreams bolt upright, never making a sound - but with all his flesh breaking out into a cold sweat, gasping the clean air that does not smell of smoke and blood and bodies.

He sees Syaoran's eyes looking at him across the darkness sometimes, shining with understanding. Syaoran saw everything, through the eyes of another. He feels Fai's body pressed against him in the darkness, not looking, not judging, but understanding and offering comfort all the same. Fai has his own nightmares, his own demons, and his own blood.

And he lies back down, too iron in self-control to let himself tremble as he wants to, in cold and fear as he lies wide-awake, staring down the darkness.

Because they don't understand. They can never understand.

In his dreams, he  _likes it._


	2. Part 1

_Then:_

It was hard. Every day, it was hard.

It would have been difficult enough just moving to the castle - a new place with a new culture, new rules, new everything. Suwa had been his home, but it had been a quiet, idyllic country backwater compared to the sophistication and bustle of the capital. He still would have had to learn all the new customs, the new dialect, all the changes that came with becoming a member of Princess Tomoyo's personal guard.

Even if that had been the only thing, it would have been hard. But it wasn't the only thing, because he hadn't only moved to the castle - his home was gone, burned, and he'd never get to go home again. Never get to see his faithful old servants, his childhood friends, ever again. His parents were dead, dead,  _dead_ , and he would never see them again, they couldn't reassure him or give him advice or help him  _ever again_ because he hadn't been able to protect them.

Sometimes he felt furious at them for dying right when he needed them most; then he felt horribly guilty for dishonoring the memory of his parents that way.

He found himself unable to make friends; the rumors which had raced ahead of him to the capital served to clear everyone out of his path, however they stared or whispered behind his back. Most of the time, he was glad of that. He wasn't here to make friends; he was here to continue his training as a member of Tomoyo's personal guard. But that didn't make it easy to feel the glares burning on the back of his head, to ignore the little, subtle slights that Souma's ninja found ways to inflict on him every day... or the uglier rumors that his sharp hearing caught when people didn't think he could possibly hear them. He'd been found, after all, with a sword in one hand and his mother's broken body in the other - with no other human souls in sight. He knew what they thought.

To  _hell_ with what they all thought, Kurogane thought furiously. To hell with all of them.

He took refuge in training - or he tried. Every day he practiced in the yard for hours, forcing his muscles to work harder, trying to perfect the techniques that his father had managed to teach him. That was hard, too; all the memories of his training lay behind a red blur of hurt, mixed up with memories of how his father would stand behind him and grip his hands to correct his stance, of how his mother would watch them both from the porch across the training yard.

Sometimes those memories felt flat and unreal, as if they had never been, or as if they'd belonged to someone else. That hurt, too; it felt like he was slowly forgetting them, and by doing so he was failing them as a son. He worked hard to bring the memories back into clarity, sitting in front of the family shrine that Tomoyo had helped to set up in his quarters... studying their miniature portraits, trying to fix the images in his mind. His mother's face was the hardest to remember; his father's was easier, if only because he was reminded of him every time he looked in a mirror.

He was fourteen now, and starting the growth spurt his mother had always promised him when she'd told him he would be as tall as Father someday. He was growing energetically now, sometimes seeming bigger and taller every time he woke up. His voice cracked, his muscles thickened. At first he was overjoyed because it meant he was getting stronger. At first.

He  _was_  getting stronger, but that didn't mean he was getting  _better_. Now he found himself fumbling his sword, tripping over his own feet, as he had to constantly readjust the memories of his training to a body that no longer fit those memories. No matter how hard he practiced it felt like his weapons skills were deteriorating every day; one day he found himself unable to do any of his father's special attacks at all.

Kurogane returned to his bedroom that day in a foul temper, hating everything in the world: his sword, the castle, his parents for no longer being there; the princess, for bringing him here; the demons, for destroying his life; and most of all, himself. He was frustrated, lonely, exhausted, hurting, and most of all he was angry, angry,  _angry._

He caught one of the maids in the process of cleaning up his futon, taking the covers away to be washed. He didn't often see the servants in the palace; they excelled at whisking around when his attention was on other things. It had taken him some time to realize that the servants weren't just discreet - they were terrified of him.

The sight of her pawing through his personal space stoked his simmering rage. "What the hell are you doing?" he barked at her.

The maid froze, looking like a startled deer. "The laundry, young master," she said.

Kurogane stepped up onto the tatami, shucking his practice sandals and frowning thunderously at the unfortunate maid. "Those were washed just yesterday," he growled. His voice was breaking, and when it wasn't squeaking like a mouse it dropped to a deep, rumbling bass. "They don't need to be washed again."

"Beg your pardon, young master, but it's the - the - palace policy," the maid stammered.

"The hell it is!" Kurogane exploded. "You think I'm filthy, is that it? You think I'm unclean? If I want my laundry to be done I'll ask for it! I don't need you in here messing with my stuff! Now get out and leave me alone!"

The maid scooted hastily away from him, but not in the direction of the door. In a sudden spurt of fury, Kurogane grabbed the nearest object to hand - a solid wooden wardrobe - and heaved it in her direction. "Get  _out!"_  he howled.

It was dark mountain wood and heavy, and when it struck the wall inches away from the maid it left a huge gash in the wall before it struck a support post and burst into splinters. The maid shrieked as sharp splinters rained around her, shielding her face with her hands, and bolted out the door.

Kurogane stood for a long moment after she fled, fists clenched, inhaling deeply as he slowly calmed from his fit of temper. He could smell the faint tang of blood in the air, from where the maid had cut herself, and it made him feel guilty - no, he thought, it made him feel  _satisfied_ , and guilty to feel so. He shouldn't lash out at the servants, he knew. It was just that they were the only outlet he had.

Eventually, he went to pick up the pieces of the shattered wardrobe.

It was perhaps not surprising, after that, when later that evening he received a summons from Princess Tomoyo. There were a lot of people he could (and would) ignore, but she unfortunately, was not one of them.

"Kurogane," the princess greeted him as he entered her chambers. With surly gracelessness, he bowed to her, then crossed the floor to sit seiza in front of her.

She regarded him solemnly for a moment, her expression lacking the usual small, gentle smile. "Kurogane, I have spoken to you about terrorizing the palace staff once before," she said. "I should not have to ask you again."

Kurogane glared. "They're just servants," he muttered.

"They are not 'just' servants, Kurogane," Tomoyo said crisply, and Kurogane cringed a little despite himself at the authority in her tone. "They are part of my sister's household, and mine. You may no longer be the heir of a noble household, but you still have the obligations and duties to act like one. Your parents should have taught you to comport yourselves better than this!"

Kurogane averted his gaze, although a seething core of resentment remained. Yes, his father had taught him about the obligations of the nobility towards the peasants - never to use or abuse his power against those who had none. But his father was dead - dead,  _dead_ , - and besides -  _these_  weren't his people. They would  _never_ be his people.

Tomoyo sighed, and her face softened, although there was still no smile in her eyes. "If nothing else, Kurogane, please try to regain a hint of compassion," she said. "They may be servants, but they are still your countrymen. And they are still human beings - just like you."

"Yes, Tsukuyomi," Kurogane said quietly.

He shouldn't feel ungrateful, he knew. No. He  _was_  grateful. Tomoyo had granted him sponsorship, bringing him to the palace and guaranteeing him a life and a position here. Kurogane still wasn't sure why she had done that, nor why she continued to work so patiently to civilize him ever since, but one thing was for sure - she was his master, the only one he would ever allow to hold power over him.

* * *

_Now:_

The wheels of the cart creaked noisily as they turned over and over along the road, but at least the ride was relatively smooth - despite the noise of the axle turning in the wheel-well the cart was well-shocked, and the road was hard and smooth. Kurogane let himself slouch a bit, legs crossed and boots braced against the edge of the dash, and the beast of burden pulling the cart snorted indignation as the reins brushed over its flank. Kurogane wound the reins an extra turn about his wrist, picking up the slack, and slouched down again.

It had been a long day. He had a job in this world as a wrangler, lending his substantial strength and (no less important) his quick, combat-trained resources towards the herding and corralling of some of the local cattle-beasties.

All of the animals in their current world looked strange to Kurogane's eyes, more like overgrown lizards than any kind of beasts of burden or meat he was used to. These particular lizards were only waist-high on a man, but they were quick and cunning and ran in packs, and far stronger than their initial spindly appearance would suggest. It took no small effort to rein them in if a pair or trio got it in their head to escape the pens where their herds were kept, and if their colorful feathers made Kurogane think of chickens on steroids, the cruel bone spurs that jutted from their feet could eviscerate a man if he wasn't quick on the draw.

Kurogane was hot, he was filthy, and he  _itched._  The first two had a part in contributing to the third; the sun beat down on him and the dust kicked up from the road liberally combined with the sweat on his skin to form an itchy crust. He couldn't wait to get back home and wash himself off, but the beast pulling his cart - a round-headed, heavyset four-legged thing the locals called Packies - was built for strength, not for speed. If he tried to urge it forward any faster, all he'd succeed in doing was annoying them both.

 _Home?_  Kurogane frowned at the direction of his own thoughts. It didn't feel quite right to call their little barrow  _home,_  not in any lasting sense of the word. They'd been in Jura for three weeks now; longer than usual on this journey, and long enough to have fallen into some sort of routine, but… at any time, none of them knew when, Mokona's earring might glow and they might be whisked off to a new world to start all over again.

 _Home_  was Nihon, and would always be. Kurogane wasn't desperate to return there any longer; he'd had a chance to go home and he'd had his chance to choose to stay, and he'd chosen to come on this journey instead. He'd come for the kid, and for Fai, and for the chance to see Syaoran and Sakura again… and he stood by that chance, would stand by them for as long as it took to make their dream of a happy world where they could be together come through. But behind it all there was always a little nagging reminder that _home_  was waiting for his return.

It wasn't just that he missed Nihon, although he did, or that his soul was still sworn to Tomoyo's service, although it was. There were… obligations that awaited him, when he finally did return. He'd ignored them for years and years, because - and he could admit this freely now - he'd been a kid, selfish and callow. He'd let the obsession for strength and power drive him, using the lessons of his father's swordsmanship carelessly without ever stopping to remember what his father had given him that strength  _for._

Someday, sometime - he didn't know when, but  _someday -_  he should go back. He should return… not just to Nihon but to Suwa. He was the last of his family line. That meant he had certain obligations to fulfill, and while he could put them off for a while, he could not put them off forever.

He could put it off for one more day, though.

They crested the hill, and the clean white green-capped dome of ho -  _their current lodgings_  -came into view. Despite himself Kurogane leaned forward eagerly, and kicked his toe into the tough leathery hide of the packy pulling the cart. The beast brayed in annoyance, but did pick up the pace - a little bit - and the cart rattled on the downhill slope.

He drove the packy into the small stable and then unhitched the cart, pulling it into its stand by hand. It was a small cart, really only intended to carry himself and a small amount of cargo - he pulled the sack out of the trench behind the seat and slung it over his shoulder before heading towards the house. He passed by another lizard beast on his way through the yard; the locals called them _donts_  and raised them as both pets and meat. Small enough to come only up to his knee, but fleshy and with a protruding set of tusks jutting from their jaws, they browsed on leaves and twigs in the patch of overgrown space and made grunting noises that put him in mind of a boar.

Kurogane let himself into the house, and immediately felt a sense of relief wash over him as he stepped out of the hot, sticky air of outside. "I'm back," he called out, and let the sack of supplies - groceries, blankets, a half-dozen other small fundamentals he'd picked up on the way back from work - slither over his arm onto the table.

"Kuro-sama?" Fai poked his head through the intervening doorway, and gave him a sunny smile. "Welcome home! Syaoran-kun is still at the library, so I haven't started dinner yet, but there's fruit and cheese in the kitchen if you're hungry."

"In a minute," Kurogane said, pulling his tunic away from his body to try to get a cooling draft going. "I need a bath first. I'm filthy."

Fai came all the way into the living room then, his nose wrinkling in exaggerated disdain. "You certainly are," he said. Belying his words, he leaned up against Kurogane and wrapped his arms around Kurogane's neck. "Filthy, sweaty, stinky, dusty, dirty…"

He leaned up for a kiss and Kurogane obliged him, feeling Fai grinning against his own mouth before the mischievous smile melted. Fai's eyes fluttered closed as he pushed himself up on his toes, deepening the kiss and sliding his hands below the collar of Kurogane's jacket.

This was Kurogane's anchor, the force that kept him grounded even when feelings of homesickness and uneasy obligation tugged him in a dozen different directions. He couldn't leave Fai. It would - manifestly - be easier to leave his arm or his leg behind than to be without the man he loved. Fai wanted to keep journeying with Syaoran, Fai wanted to find a way to bring back the kids they had loved and Kurogane would never abandon that goal so long as Fai stuck to it. They had developed a partnership that was part camaraderie, the loyalty and trust that grew between two warriors fighting back to back in a battle; part friendship, a deeper understanding than they could claim with almost anyone in any world; and no small part passion.

At the moment, though, Kurogane really  _was_  hot and sweaty and wanted a bath more than anything else. There would be plenty of time to enjoy his boyfriend's company later. So he broke the kiss, giving Fai a little promissory nip on his lower lip to show he didn't really mind, and shot back "Are you just going to complain about that, or are you going to do something about it?"

Fai grinned and whirled around, heading for the back of the house. "I'll stoke the boiler," he said. "There should be a clean set of clothes on your side of the mattress in the bedroom!"

The water for the bath - well,  _shower_  really, since it would have taken too long to fill an entire bath when he was more interested in scrubbing than soaking anyway - was ready in an astonishingly short time, the large rainwater tank heating much faster than he would have expected. Probably something to do with the strange alloy the tank was made of, Kurogane thought as he stepped under the spray.

Jura country was a strange combination of opposites and contradictions, things strange and familiar. The walls of the house, the furniture and cookware, even the materials of the road and the cart seemed straight out of Tomoyo Daidouji's world; metals so light they hardly felt real, a tough white substance they called  _plastic_  that was slightly gummy to the touch, yet could be forged into any shape imaginable. And yet despite this futuristic setting, everything that moved and burned was practically primitive by contrast. They used beasts to pull carts and turn mills, providing the brute labor that kept this village going. Fires to cook and heat water by were provided by wood and charcoal, each house having its own small boiler.

Kurogane couldn't begin to imagine how such a strange dichotomy existed, but they had adapted to it - as they always did - and used the tools of the world as each day came. Did it matter whether the water he used to bathe was piped in under city streets, or rainwater gathered in cisterns overhead and heated by a wood-burning boiler? It got him clean the same either way, he thought as he sluiced himself off under the warm stream and scrubbed the dust and sweat away with a rough washcloth.

The big hot-water tank gave Kurogane plenty of time to brood on his current dilemma, his thoughts circling round again to his obligations. No doubt Fai could be persuaded to return to Nihon with him, eventually. He had no homeworld of his own to go back to, and Kurogane was certain Fai could come to love Nihon as he did. The court, led by Tomoyo, would accept him with friendship. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was that if he intended to fulfill his obligations, as he knew he must, then that meant that someday he would have to take a wife. The thought in itself didn't bother him. He had no intention of giving up Fai, and there was plenty of precedent for a lord to keep a long-term lover even after marrying. The lady of a noble house was as much a steward and purser as she was wife and mother, and although husband and wife were expected to work together to administer the land, love was not a requirement. Even the production and parenting of an heir was a duty too important to rely on a love that might or might not ever blossom between them. His own parents had been different - his own parents had been special - but Kurogane had seen enough other couples in the Shirasagi court to accept the value of pragmatism over romance.

But Kurogane wasn't sure that Fai would see it that way. Wasn't sure that Fai  _could_  see it that way. No doubt Fai would accept the arrangement, if he had to - the damned idiot was too self-effacing, too self-sacrificing. He would smile and reassure Kurogane that he was okay, that he wasn't bothered, no matter how deeply that lie cut…

Kurogane growled and shut off the hot-water valve, splashing himself with icy water for a moment before the flow fell to a trickle and then died. He yanked the towel off the side of the shower stall and scrubbed his head and neck vigorously for a moment, wrapped it around himself and went to look for his clothes.

He was getting ahead of himself, worrying about problems that might be years down the road. Maybe they'd both be eaten by one of the big trexor lizards tomorrow, for all he knew. Best to just take each day as it came.

Syaoran came back as purple shadows began to fall over the landscape, with the strap of a hempen bag of library books riding one shoulder and Mokona on the other. By that time Kurogane and Fai were both back in their clothes and on their respective sides of the house, Kurogane stacking firewood for the boiler while Fai cooked up a storm in the kitchen.

The boy was full of enthusiasm, babbling on about the things he had found out in the past day. His lengthy library sessions had finally been enough, it seemed, to convince the librarians that he was serious about his interest; and so they were finally allowing him access to some of the more advanced and valuable books in carefully sealed rooms in the back of the chrome-and-plastic library building.

He hadn't been able to take any of those valuable books out of the library, of course, but his research had turned up references to half a dozen other volumes that he claimed were necessary for a background understanding. Kurogane had picked one up and leafed through it while Syaoran was changing out of his own dusty clothes. The language seemed vaguely familiar to him - some variation on Japanese that used similar kanji but different kana - but the terminology was completely unfamiliar. He was more fascinated by the material the book was made of: instead of wood-pulp paper, the leaves were made of a tough, paper-thin, eggshell-clear film of plastic with the words printed in black ink on the pages. The pages resisted tearing, and Kurogane was pretty sure they'd be waterproof as well, not that he intended to test his theory.

At dinner Syaoran's conversation was all about this new science of  _cloning_ , a way to make duplicate creatures genetically identical to the original, but with no magic involved. Fai made polite, interested noises as Syaoran chattered on about zygotes and parthogenesis and artificial embryonic environments, gene splicing and gene sequencing and chromosomal positioning. Kurogane could only assume that Mokona was translating, because the words all sounded like nonsense to him.

Mokona, who accompanied the kid to the library every day, had little interest in the finer details of genetics and much more on the topic of giant lizards. There were thousands of varieties of the lizard-beasts (Mokona called them  _dinosaurs_ ) in this world alone, and Mokona kept interrupting Syaoran's monologue to project an image of a new bizarre-looking scaled or feathered critter in the air above the dinner table. (Kurogane particularly liked the sea-going ones with the long sinuous necks and the frills around their heads; they looked interestingly liked dragons.)

"Mokona knows all about dinosaurs, of course!" the critter chirped, during a lull when Syaoran had devoted himself to the savory soup and cornbread Fai had cooked up. "Yuuko had a book about them! But Mokona is lucky to get to see them in person. Lucky, lucky!"

"Yuuko-san had a book from this world?" Fai asked her.

"Nope! It was a book from Mokona's world. Of course, the dinosaurs lived long, long, long ago, so there aren't any left any more!"

"Where'd they go?" Kurogane wanted to know. Mokona was now entertaining herself by making a projected herd of lizards trample through Fai's carefully arranged greens, while Fai laughingly tried to defend his garden with a salad fork.

"Most of them died off," Syaoran said. "The ones that survived evolved into birds."

Kurogane considered this new idea dubiously, comparing the lizard-quick, vicious intellect of the raptors he wrestled with every day at work to the chickens he knew from the other world. "Those must be some birds," he said with a touch of skepticism.

Syaoran started to speak, stopped a moment to swallow his mouthful of soup, then cleared his throat and spoke again. "Actually, we think that dinosaurs may have existed in the past of a  _lot_  of different worlds," he said. "There's fossil records in many of the worlds we've passed through, and other worlds have legends of creatures that  _might_  have been dinosaurs. Like in your country, Kurogane-san. They died off in most worlds millions of years ago, but in this world, with cloning..."

Kurogane looked up, frowning. "My country?" he said. "There are no lizard-beasts like this in Nihon. Not even in any stories that I know of."

"Well, not dinosaurs exactly," Syaoran said. "But there are legends of demons in Nihon, just like in a lot of different places, except in other worlds, those stories of dragons and demons were probably actually dinosaurs..."

Kurogane felt the handle of the flimsy metal fork bend as his hand clenched around it. "Demons are nothing like these lizards," he said, and his voice was suddenly harsh and grating.

Syaoran looked at him, eyes and mouth wide, as he realized he'd made a faux pas. "No, of course not, I didn't mean that. I just meant that there are stories of things  _like_  demons, I mean, even if other worlds don't actually have - I mean..."

Mokona and Fai stopped their clowning and were looking at him, eyes as big as Syaoran's. Kurogane took a deep breath, and tried to tamp down his aura.

"Demons are nothing like animals," he said flatly. Images boiled up in his vision, clouds of red and black, dripping red and writhing black. "Not even remotely the same thing. Animals are animals, and that's all there is to it. They fight for food, or territory, or mates. Demons are completely different. They're creatures of pure evil, and they hunt and kill just for the fun of it. They can do nothing but destroy..."

He felt a warmth on his right elbow, and glanced over to see that Fai had put his hand on Kurogane's arm under the edge of the table in silent support. That contact was enough to ground him, calm him; he took another deep breath and exhaled, letting the sudden dark anger flow out of him with the exhalation. "Forget it," he muttered.

"Kurogane-san, I'm sorry, I didn't mean -" Syaoran was very nearly in tears, and Kurogane felt a little bad for him.

"Forget it," Kurogane said a little louder, and he managed to muster up a brief, small smile for his foster son. "Anyway. You were saying?"

After a brief pause, the conversation limped on; Syaoran kept it carefully to the subject of cloning from then on. Fai and Mokona managed to keep up a light banter, while Kurogane picked at his food and wavered between irritation and contrition. It had been years since he'd let his temper get the best of him; why would it strain to the breaking point now, in this safe haven surrounded by those he loved best?

Maybe that was exactly why, Kurogane eventually concluded. Maybe this idyllic domesticity was putting more of a strain on him than any battlefield ever could, if only because of the dangerous directions it led his thoughts. It made him think about what had once been, and what could someday be, when he had no business focusing on anything but the  _now._

After dinner Syaoran produced a new treasure, a set of colorful playing cards in the same tough, interesting material as the books. Although Kurogane could see that the durable cards were definitely going to be an asset on their journey, he begged out of the game, claiming to be too tired from the long day of work to concentrate enough to stop Mokona from cheating. Mokona had objected, Fai had laughed, and everything had been back to normal again.

And when Fai slipped away to the bedroom not half an hour after Kurogane had undressed for bed, joining him under the light blanket that was all this summer heat required, Kurogane was at last able to truly live in the moment. Forget past. Forget future. Only  _this,_  warm skin and scent and breathy moans calling his name. Only now.

* * *

_Soon:_

In the darkness, the Mother turned.

The darkness itself did not bother her much. She had lived for a long time under this mountain, long enough for the forest to grow to cover the bare slopes and burn and grow again more times than she could could; long enough for her to carve out more nests and dens in the subterranean passages under the stone than she could ever remember; long enough for her body to have worn the passages smooth. She had grown old, and sight had gone dim in all but two of her eyes; even if she were to emerge into the cold air above the mountains, she would see little more.

It mattered not; there was little on those cold, bare slopes to see. She did not need eyes to see the world about her, extending her awareness like the feathers of outstretched wings to brush over distant slopes of rock and blurred treetops. This was her domain, and little stirred here that she did not know about; only the small lives of the forest animals, from the nervous rabbits to the placid deer browsing on twig-ends and treebark, awaiting the coming of spring.

Beyond the mountain her vision was less clear. This land was a harsh one, with rugged mountains and unforgiving oceans pinching the human lands between them. Over many years the humans had done much to level the rocky hills, building as far up against the mountains as the steep slopes would allow them - but beyond that point they could go no further; their roads and terraces ended, and all beyond that belonged to the youkai. Here, no humans walked.

It had not always been so. She immersed herself in old memories as if sinking into a warm bath, redolent with comforting heat and pleasant smells. There had once been a time when the humans of the kingdoms below had come up here, regularly - to pay homage to the great spirits of the mountain, to offer tribute, or to beg an audience. There had once been a time when she and her brood had been great in power in prestige; when wise men and women and shamans and even emperors would climb her mountain slopes to seek wisdom. Her kind lived long, and wisdom tended to accumulate as carelessly a housewife accumulated clutter.

Things had changed. She was not sure when. Years tended to slip by her without notice, and somewhere along the line the relationship between her kind and the humans had chilled. She'd ignored it like she would a snowfall, attributing it to a passing fancy of the mortal races... but instead of passing, like winter into spring, the cold had only deepened.

Perhaps her own children had been at fault, lashing out violently at the humans a little bit too often, greedily taking more than tribute offered, playing pranks too cruel for mortal egos to bear. She couldn't remember; she hadn't tracked her children's activities all that closely. But the humans had retaliated, sending strong warriors against her children, hunting them down like beasts... and like beasts they became, more and more, their very intelligence and self-awareness slipping away into a vortex of mindless destruction. Chaos was woven into the very fabric of her people's being, and if they could not resist that -

Or perhaps it had been the miko themselves. Yes. There was that. As years had passed they became ever more skilled at raising  _kekkai_ , barriers as strong and impenetrable as the stone castles they built. She could understand their passionate desire to protect their young, being a mother herself - but did they not understand that to wall the youkai away from their homes and nurseries would only hasten their own destruction?

Perhaps they didn't. The humans were only mortal, after all, and correspondingly short-sighted. It was easy for her to forget how quickly they lived and died, lives flickering out like fireflies, and if they failed to pass the knowledge on to their own children... yes, the humans so easily forgot.

The Mother was dying.

She recognized the truth of it now in herself, in her feebly flickering energy, her wandering bouts of senile thought. She was dying, reaching at last the end of her long centuries - life was long for her kind, but when the end came it often did so suddenly. She had not even ventured from her lair in a long time, not since that one desperate night years ago when she had been drawn forth from her resting place by the smell of fire and blood carried on the winds up her mountain. Not since she had stirred herself for one last chance, one last hope for her people -

Not since the night of the covenant.

She was dying. The time had come to redeem her pledge, to return what had been entrusted to her years ago. She had banked everything on this last gambit, on the last and youngest and most wayward of her progeny. She could do no more.

The time had come. The Mother gathered the last of her once mighty power, and called for her child.


	3. Part 2

_Then:_

The wards of Suwa are down.

Not weak, not ebbing in their normal tides, but  _down,_  catastrophically so. Demons course through the streets, carelessly savage; they crush and trample buildings and walls in their hunt for food. Lamps are spilled, cooking pots overturned, hearths scattered; fires catch quickly in the splintered ruins of thatch and wood and paper, and soon the conflagration runs riot through the sleepy township. Would-be defenders are overcome by the heat and smoke, forced into the street - into the waiting jaws and claws of the demons.

The wards of Suwa are  _down,_  for her priestess can no longer maintain them, and the warriors who defended them have been scattered and laid low.

In all the chaos there is one building that has not yet caught afire; one survivor, a half-grown pup, who clings to his dam's broken body with a shock that has not yet given way to the understanding of grief. In one hand, his mother's body; in the other, his dead father's sword.

In the air before him, a hole in the world.

The defenses of Suwa have been broken, and not only from the outside. Foul magic pierced through time and space to create this rent, this ugly gash in the fabric of reality that taints the currents around it. The boy looks on destruction through uncomprehending eyes, and a figure in the dark fissure stirs and speaks.

"This was your fault."

Rust and wires, a voice of rusted gears and razor wires. It scrapes over the boy's mind, drags him out of his shock and grief and commands his attention.

"These deaths occurred on your watch," the voice continues, remote and pitiless. "Your failure to protect. Your failure to serve. This is how the house of Suwa ends."

Across the street, a building collapses in flaming ruins; the roar is like that of a dragon, like the terrible howls of the demons that prowl the street. The boy looks up, his eyes focusing only slowly. His mouth drops open; his hand clenches on the sword.

"But there is still a chance to save her," the voice continues, switching gears from accusing to persuasive. "To undo your mistakes, to set right what has gone wrong. You can still survive, and return your mother to life, if you will swear to serve me -"

He gets no further in his pitch. The boy's breath rises in a growl that becomes a roaring cry, and he lashes out, lunging up from his crouch like a snake uncoiling. His father's sword in one hand, the sword whose hilt is still wet and sticky with blood: he strikes, and the steel edge of the blade  _scrapes_  over the surface of the ward with a noise that makes the universe itself shudder.

 _"You killed her!"_  the boy screams, tears in his throat and blood in his eyes. " _You_  killed her, how dare you, how dare you say you can bring her back! I'm going to kill you, I'll kill you,  _kill you -"_

Implacable eyes watch through a barrier more formidable than time itself; the hands tick over, and the moment is lost. "So be it," the man grunts, sounding no more than faintly annoyed. "This one will be of no use. Die, then, in the teeth of those same beasts that killed your father."

And the portal flickers out.

Now she can approach, in the vision that wavers with heat and blood; now she can see the boy weeping tears of helpless fury. Now his head comes up, and his hand grips the hilt of his father's sword as he raises the blade. The first of the demons crests the horizon, its neck arching against the sky as its claws dig deeply into the charcoal beams of the burning house. It is only the first of many. She knows that, as does he.

And she knows, just as he does, that he has no chance, no possible chance against so many. He is only a boy, however brave, however passionate. Perhaps, if he's lucky, he can kill one - or two - before he dies.

But he will die fighting, as his father did, as his mother did, and soon he will be reunited with them - and so he raises his head, and his sword, and he screams out a challenge to any demon or god who cares to take it.

* * *

_Now:_

"But," Syaoran said, and it came out as almost a wail. "I'm not  _done_  yet!"

"Mokona is sorry," the little critter said, her ears drooping. Yet still the gem cuff attached to her ear glowed with an undeniable persistence. "But Mokona can't help it! When the earring glows, we have to leave! If we wait too long, then we'll just go whether we want to or not!"

"But there's still so much to learn!" The boy was almost in tears, not that Kurogane was inclined to blame him. "This could be our _chance,_  don't you understand? A chance to bring Mother and Father back for good - without using magic or hurting anyone else! We can't leave now, we just can't!"

Kurogane shifted his weight from one foot to the other, profoundly uncomfortable. It had never been his way to dither over decisions once they had already been made, or to angst over things that were out of one's hands. Even he thought Syaoran was right and they should stay, but what could he do about it? He didn't understand all this transdimensional magic stuff and without that understanding, any consolation he tried to offer would be no more than empty platitudes.

Thankfully, Fai was able to step in and provide what he could not. "Now, Syaoran-kun," the blond man soothed. "It's not the end of the world. In fact, it's not even the end of  _this_  world. Do you remember what Mokona said back in Clow, about being attuned to the memories your parents left behind in other worlds? We can easily set up a similar connection to this world, so that Mokona can bring us back again later."

"Really?" Syaoran's face lit up, but then he frowned. "But wouldn't that be difficult?"

"It wouldn't have to be," Fai answered. He glanced over at Mokona. "I believe all that should be required is to take with us something that belongs to this world. Perhaps some of these books you got from the library would do?

"Not just any silly old thing would work," Mokona chimed in, adding her thoughts to the conversation. "Some things are the same in any world, so Mokona wouldn't be able to find  _this_  world again through them. But the books are very special, so those would work just fine!"

"And that way you could continue to study them in your spare time," Fai suggested. "So you see, it's not all that bad."

"I guess not," Syaoran said. The near-hysteria that had overcome him when Mokona's earring first began to glow had subsided, but he still looked upset.

"Well then!" Fai said, and he clapped his hands with a bright smile. "If that's decided, then let's get our things!"

There followed fifteen minutes of rushing around - they traveled light, by necessity, but there were a few things that were too important to leave behind. Syaoran clattered off to his room to decide which books he would take, while Mokona opened her mouth impossibly wide and gulped down bundles of camping and survival gear.

"I don't like this," Kurogane said quietly to Fai once Syaoran was out of the room. "The kid's got a point - we've never been yanked out of a world in the middle of things like this before. What's the hurry?"

"I don't know why," Fai said, his voice unusually serious. "But remember what Yuuko once told us - there's no such thing as coincidence. I think that means that nothing happens randomly or arbitrarily, either, not when it comes to Mokona's magic. If we're being called away now, it's because there's somewhere else we need to be."

"That's right," Mokona said, nodding seriously. "Mokona doesn't always decide when to stay or go, but right now, somebody out there is calling for us pretty loud!"

"Calling for us? Someplace we  _need_  to be?" Kurogane echoed, a scowl creasing his face as he considered the implication. "What, are we some kind of interdimensional superhero or problem-solving team? I'm not sure I like the idea of being someone else's mercenaries!"

Fai laughed softly. "So grumpy, Kuro-tan," he said, laying one hand lightly on Kurogane's back. "We chose this when we chose to travel with Syaoran-kun, you know. And besides, it's not like going around and saving people in distress is something that's entirely new to you, now is it?"

His blue eyes sparkled at Kurogane, and the warrior snorted and glanced deliberately away. Fai might be right, but Kurogane didn't intend to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

Syaoran came trotting back, out of breath and with his arms full of books. "These are the most important ones," he huffed. "Mokona, if you could…?"

Mokona obligingly gulped the books down, while Kurogane looked on with a raised eyebrow. "Do you really need so many just to get a lead back on this dimension?" he said. "D'you think the library won't mind so many of their books going missing?"

Syaoran looked guiltily stricken. "I guess so," he admitted shamefully. "But… it's not like we're not going to bring them  _back…_  and lending books is what libraries  _do,_  right?"

Fai laughed. "Kuro-meanie is just teasing you," he said. "We'll be sure to bring them back in good shape. Now - if that's everything, shall we go?"

"Guess so," Kurogane said, glancing around the small house to check for anything left behind. He was surprised by how sad he felt to be leaving this place - there was peace and happiness here, things they encountered all too seldom on this journey. At the same time, though, he was eager to be on the road once more. How could he feel both of these things at once, completely contradictory and yet equally strong?

He turned towards the other three - his fellow travelers, his family. "Let's go," he said.

Mokona's magic swirled around them, and the old world swept away.

They made a good landing; Kurogane's boots came down solidly on ground that was firm, but soft. Dirt, layered over rock, his feet told him, even before any of the rest of their surroundings became visible through the swirling fog. Sloping and uneven; probably a natural surface, not man-made. They were out in the wilderness somewhere, then.

As the last of the magic whistled and died away, Kurogane reached for his sword and did a rapid check of the area. Fai, Syaoran, Mokona - all accounted for. His eyes swept the darkening space around them, making out pillars and hollows stretching out all around them, looming walls behind them. A forest, with stone outcrops visible through the trees; the sun was sinking behind the ridge, the sky deepening to twilight above them. No other people, nor anything living: no threats.

Only then did he relax enough to let go of his sword, to ease his stance and stretch his arms and legs. "Not a bad landing, manjuu," he said offhandedly. "Maybe you're finally actually getting good at this."

Mokona squawked indignantly, and Syaoran hurried to soothe her. "Where are we this time?" the boy asked, petting Mokona's ears with one hand while his keen, curious eyes glanced around them.

"This is the place where the waves are strongest!" Mokona piped up.

"Waves?" Syaoran echoed, sounding confused. "You mean, like one of Sakura-san's feathers? I thought we weren't searching for those any more."

"We aren't specifically," Fai said, "but that doesn't mean we ever found them all, Syaoran-kun. It's entirely possible that there are still some out there, and that Mokona would be drawn to them as she is to the other memories. Is that what you mean, Moko-chan?"

"Nope!" Mokona shook her head energetically. "Not that kind of waves! It's something else. Mokona isn't sure what, but those waves reached all the other way to the other world and called us here!"

"D'you mean that someone summoned us here?" Kurogane demanded. He wasn't sure he liked that idea at all, even less than he liked the idea of them turning into some sort of destiny-herded superhero team. "Who?"

"Mokona doesn't know!" the critter chirped, and Kurogane vented an exasperated sigh.

"Hmm, well, there don't seem to be any people around here," Fai mused, glancing around at the chilly, barren forest. "But I  _do_  sense some powerful quantities of ambient magic nearby - more than you would expect to find outside of a shrine or some other consecrated place. I wonder if that's what 'called' us here?"

"If we want to find people, we should probably start heading downhill," Syaoran suggested. "We're more likely to run into a road or a waterway heading that way, and eventually that would lead us to a town.

"Well, which way, up or down?" Kurogane said bluntly. He glanced overhead at the darkening sky. "Either way, it's getting dark, we should -"

He stopped midsentence, his head snapping back up to stare at the sky. The stars were beginning to come out, glimmering points of light that dusted the vault of the heavens in myriad, shimmering clouds. But that wasn't what had caught his attention.

He'd seen the stars many times in many worlds - some only faintly, behind an obscuring veil of light and vapors; sometimes strongly enough to light up the whole world. But he'd  _never_  seen the familiar constellations of his childhood before, the Sickle and the Plow, the mounted Archer drawing his gem-studded bow in pursuit of the fleeing deer, the nearly perfect octagon of the Sacred Mirror…

Kurogane turned away from his companions and strode rapidly up the slope, scrambling over the rocks when the ground became too broken to cross easily. He had to get to the top of the ridge, before he lost the light -!

The bewildered questions of his companions followed him as he broke out of the screen of trees, momentarily left in the clear air on bare rock. He turned around, his sharp eyes straining the horizon, picking out familiar landscapes. There, the triple silhouette of the Three Sisters;  _there,_  to the south, the majestic symmetrical cone of the Rich Lady. But from this angle, from this distance, that would mean…

Kurogane stared down along the mountain slopes into the valley, eyes straining to pierce the misty clouds. The light was fading fast, and in the end that was what allowed him to see it - a dim red-orange glow reflecting up from the flat plain below. Kyoto, the capital city, crowned by Shirasagi palace itself.

"We're in Nihon," he said flatly, as his companions caught up with him. "Somehow, we've ended up right back where we started."

"Well, that's good!" Syaoran exclaimed. "Isn't it? We can see Tomoyo-san and Kendappa-san again, and spend a few days resting…"

He trailed off. The light was going fast, but that wasn't what was casting the darkness across Kurogane's features.

"It isn't good?" Fai said quietly from beside him.

"It would be, if we'd come out in Kyoto," Kurogane bit out. "Which we  _ought_  to have! But instead, we're clear across the valley, on the other side of the mountains. There's a province and a half between us and the city, even if -" He cut himself off and inhaled deeply, the cold wind cutting into his throat and lungs. It had a familiar smell,  _so_  familiar, one he knew well from his childhood: a smell of excitement, danger, and death.

"We're off the edge of the map here," he said, more quietly this time. "There's a reason there's no settlements up here. We're clear on the other side of where Suwa province used to be, and that was a  _border_  province, tasked with guarding the interior lands against the demon threat. And since we're on the other side of the border…"

Fai understood. "We're in demon territory?" he said. Kurogane gave him a short, choppy nod, and Fai rocked back on his heels, drawing in a hissing breath. He let it out again in a faint whistle, and it formed a blue streak in the air for a moment before dissolving away. "Well, that certainly explains the ambient magic I sensed," he said, and he sounded almost amused.

"It's not a laughing matter, mage," Kurogane snapped. "We're going to have to watch ourselves. The demons out there aren't tame animals like the dinos of the last world. They're vicious and aggressive, and they're man-eaters. It's not likely that we'll get off this mountain without killing at least a demon or two on the way."

He paused, and despite the seriousness of the situation a cold, razor-thin smile touched his own face. It was a smile that hadn't been there for a while - it was the one he'd always worn when reveling in the thrill of battle, the bloodlust that came with a kill. He no longer enjoyed battle just for its own sake, no longer enjoyed killing humans - but demons, now - demons were another matter.

"Damned if I'm not looking forward to it," he said.

* * *

It began as voices.

More than whispers, but less than words, the snatches of sound drifted to him between the trees as they hiked through the underbrush. It was a woman's voice, or voices - they wavered between a deep murmur and a high warble, the meaning of the words lost in gibberish. But there  _was_ meaning there, it wasn't just random sounds - he could hear the rhythm and syntax of familiar words, he just couldn't quite make them out…

Kurogane found himself straining to hear better, turning his head left and right as though to zero in on the source of the voices. They rose and fell as they navigated between tree trunks, dimmed and then sharpened as they passed under the shadow of a stone wall; if he could only find an open space, then maybe he'd be able to make it out…

The sound of high-pitched laughter, a young girl's laughter, was enough to make Kurogane finally stop in his tracks. His two companions stopped too, looking at him questioningly. Their expressions were serious and concerned in the pale glow of the witchlight Fai had conjured to ride above their heads. "Kurogane?" Fai asked him.

"The voices -" Syaoran started to say, then stopped.

"Yeah, I hear them too," Kurogane confirmed, sweeping his narrow gaze across the darkened spaces between the trees. "Demon tricks. Don't listen to them."

"Look," Fai said in a quiet voice, and he nodded towards the north. Kurogane followed his gaze and caught sight of it a moment later: a pale light that bloomed, then faded among the trees.

"Foxfire," Kurogane said shortly. "Some demons use it to play tricks, to lure unwary travelers off the path and lose their way in the forest, where they're easy prey."

"This isn't exactly a path," Fai pointed out dryly, and Kurogane vented a brief laugh.

"And we aren't exactly unwary travelers," he said. He'd been keeping his hand close to Ginryuu's hilt; now he closed his itching palm on the hilt, and flexed his fingers on the familiar grip.

"So what should we do?" Syaoran asked uncertainly, looking between them. "I mean, should we just ignore them and keep going, or…?"

"If they want to draw us to them, we should give them what they want," Kurogane said savagely. "They might be a little bit surprised to meet a meal that bites back."

An uncomfortable silence fell on the group, and they forged onwards through the forest. Kurogane kept his eyes and ears out for the slightest sign of trouble, scaly limbs stirring in the brush or gleaming eyes from the darkness - but that still left more than enough attention left over to listen to the voices.

Personally, Kurogane had always been of the opinion that any traveler who was stupid enough to stray off the path in search of phantom lights or voices got exactly what they deserved. Everyone knew that there were demons in the wilderness, and everyone knew what precautions to take; if you went walking straight into the lion's mouth despite that knowledge, well, there was just no helping you.

But he'd never been on the receiving end of it before. Not ever. Despite his wariness, despite the heavy layer of revulsion that filled him at the very thought of demons - he couldn't stop straining his ears to listen for those voices. The more they walked, the closer they came to what he knew  _must_  be the source of those whispers, the clearer they became. The pitch stabilized, resolved itself into a fluting soprano. "My baby," the voice whispered to him. "My sweet boy. Come to me. Come to me…"

Had his own mother sounded like that? Surely not. No, his mother's voice had been rich and warm, with a gentle humor that ran just below the surface, like there was nothing in the world that amused her more than her son and husband.

As if in response to his thoughts, the voice dropped by several notes. "My brave baby boy," it whispered to him. "It's been so long. Come here. Let me hold you again."

_Demon tricks. Don't listen!_

The light that wavered in between the tree trunks was hardly even a light now, just an image, a silhouette framed in a pale hazy halo. It was tall and it curved down towards them, reaching out a hand so close, so tantalizingly close, close enough to reach out and touch even though it was still so far away.

"I've missed you," the voice murmured, the whispers melding with the wavering image until the two were one and the same. "I've been waiting for you all this time. Waiting here. My sweet baby, my brave little son. Come back to me, come home."

It occurred to Kurogane to wonder, even as his legs flew over the darkened terrain in pursuit of that mirage, just  _why_  he was seeing this. The legends warned that kitsune would take the form of women, yes, but  _young and comely_  women were usually the threat so identified. Not mothers.

Not  _his own_  mother.

True, a vision of young and comely women would not likely do much to seduce him; if any trickster spirit hoped to appeal to his lust before his reason, they'd have better luck appearing before him as Fai. But even that pale copy would not be likely to impress him when he had the real thing within arms' reach. Why, then? Was it because they knew they couldn't reach him through lust that they were trying this other angle, dredging up memories of a parent he'd not seen nor felt in ten years?

A sudden horrible thought struck him; if the image appearing before him was so familiar, then what were his companions seeing? Were they all sharing in this vision, or did they each see a form and face drawn from their own memories?

He tore his eyes away from their quarry, glanced over to the faces of his family. Syaoran looked - nervous, but also wildly fascinated. Kurogane knew that look, the drive for knowledge that comes upon him when they reach a new world, meet a new people. Not a hunger for any lost family, he didn't think. He was curious, but not transfixed.

Fai looked - tense. Wound up like a spring, nearly vibrating with tension. Kurogane searched for and didn't find the pain he'd expect if Fai were seeing or hearing visions of his own long-dead mother, the mother who abandoned him. Did the demon know better than to try that with Fai? Was the beast that lured them in clever enough to distinguish between different tactics, or did it mindlessly take on the form of whatever would appeal to its prey?

Fai caught his glance, sent him a glass smile that fooled no one. At another time Kurogane would have called him on it, but right now that wasn't important. What was important was that Fai was keeping it together, holding all of his true feelings under wraps so that he could face whatever threat he needed to. "We're getting close," he warned Kurogane, his voice strained and slightly breathless from their flight. He nodded up to the blackness of the woods ahead, where the trees gave way to a huge shadowed slope of stone. "The source of magic. It's up ahead."

As if in confirmation, the wispy grey light drifted out of reach behind a tree trunk, flared, then died. Appeared again, in the clearing beyond. " _Come to me..."_  the illusion whispered, and now that he wasn't  _straining_ towards it some of the terrible familiarity was gone. Had it ever been there, or was it only his own mind playing tricks?

"Enough with the hide-and-seek," Kurogane growled.

He steadied himself, inhaling and exhaling deeply to force the thunder of his heart to quiet. He reached for the calm that his father taught him, the remote and quiet place of stillness that lay at the heart of any swordplay. It was hard to achieve, with vicious hatred and half-crazed yearning battling in his breast, but after a moment the crawling darkness receded.

He stepped out of the trees and sensed more than saw the cave before him, a cold damp breath of rot-smelling air that rolled over him. The stars and moon were out, and Fai's magelight behind him, but the mouth of the cave was an unremitting black void before them. The gray rock rolled up on either side of it, up and up high over his head before it came to a peak above the cave's mouth and continued on out of sight.

"Should we wait for morning?" Syaoran asked uneasily. "I'm just not sure if storming a demon's lair in the middle of a night is a good idea."

"It'll still be dark inside in the morning," Kurogane replied. "And there's no safe place out here to camp."

An unearthly light glowed in the mouth of the cave, no brighter than a dying firefly. Was the foxfire getting weaker, now that he remembered to steel his heart against it? Or was there simply no more need for the deceit when they have walked willingly up to the beast's lair?

_Come to me…_

Kurogane strode forward. He didn't look back to see if Fai and Syaoran were behind him, because he was the point man and always had been. Whatever monster or demon was waiting in the darkness there, whatever attack of sorcery or fang and claw might come at them, he would be the one to take the brunt.

The thumping of his boots turned to ringing echoes as he crossed the threshold. Fai's lighter step was just behind him, and he spoke a quiet word that caused his magical light to rise towards the stone ceiling, reflecting and illuminating the cave. It was a large, irregular stone chamber, unlovely and unshaped by human hands, and the back of it narrowed into low tunnels that led further down into the mountain.

 _Someone's here_ , Kurogane thought instantly, because there was a light further back in the cave that wasn't Fai's. He lunged forward, crossing the cavern in a blink, and saw a familiar shimmer hovering before his eyes as he turns to face the intruder -

And stumbled back, releasing his grip on Ginryuu's handle as an unexpected, all- _too_  familiar face looked back at him calmly from the stone tunnel beyond.

 _"Princess Tomoyo?"_  he said incredulously.

* * *

_Soon:_

Fai finds him on the roof, in almost the same spot - in almost the same posture - as Syaoran, on that terrible night years ago. The night Sakura had died. There seems to be something up here, some peace or cleanliness that draws the sick-at-heart.

It's on his lips to call out, but he finds at the moment of speech that he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't need to speak, though, because the man on the roof has senses unnaturally keen; he doesn't need to look at Fai to know he's there.

"You knew, didn't you?" the man says. "From the very start."

When he speaks his voice is flat, hollow. Emptied of feeling. Emptied of rage. Fai would almost rather face the rage.

"No," Fai says quickly - too quickly - "no, of course not. How could I?"

For a moment the man just stares at him, his eyes red-rimmed and burning - and for a moment, Fai hopes to find fury in them -

Then the breath huffs out of his lungs, and he turns to face the sunset again. "Liar," is all he says.


	4. Part 3

_Then:_

There are advantages to having a dreamseer as your sister. The empire of Nihon stretched a hundred leagues across the land, from the mountains to the sea. It often took messengers several days to cover the distance from the outer provinces to the castle at Shirasagi, and with war simmering constantly on the horizon and vile beasts prowling the edges of civilization, several days could be too late.

So Kendappa is not sorry that her little sister, Tomoyo, showed signs of the dreamseeing talent early and has been groomed for the role of Tsukuyomi ever since. The ability to see the future and predict where disaster will strike is an invaluable one for the leader of a country.

That being said, Kendappa couldn't help but wish that this warning hadn't come in the  _middle of the night._

Tomoyo had woken her - woken all of them - from a sound sleep, and driven the palace staff to assemble a fighting and traveling force in under an hour. Kendappa's soldiers, Souma's ninjas, and a carriage for Tomoyo to ride in all took to the road in the dark of midnight, and had pushed on ceaselessly through the hours of darkness, the road before their feet lit only by the torches they carried.

When they'd met the first demon, Kendappa had stopped doubting the truth of her sister's visions. But that didn't make her any happier to be out fighting demons in the pre-dawn gloom, nor riding through the smoking ruins that had once been a living, thriving community... There was light enough to see the bones of the buildings, outlined in glowing red light as the coals died down, but not really enough light to make out the bodies.

And Kendappa can't help but wonder, with a bitterness that seemed to draw substance from the cimmerian shade: why couldn't Tomoyo have warned them earlier, if she was going to dream of this at all? Why couldn't they have come here sooner, soon enough to do some good?

"We must hurry, Sister." Tomoyo's soft voice breaks the silence beside her. Kendappa had fallen back to ride beside the carriage, hovering protectively close despite the escort of guards and ninja around them. Tomoyo's pale face peers out of the carriage, her large dark eyes sparkling in the moving torchlight.

"Why?" Kendappa asks, and the word comes out as a croak from her smoke-roughened throat. "It's too late, the damage has been done. It's good that we managed to kill the demons before they could get free and menace one of the other provinces, but it's too late for Suwa."

"We must reach the precinct's house before it's too late," Tomoyo whispers. "Too late for him."

"Too late for who?" Kendappa frowns; the movement tightens the skin of her face, makes her feel the sticky pull of demon blood drying there. "There can't possibly be any survivors, not that close to the center of the massacre!"

"There will be one," Tomoyo says, with the weirdly unshakeable certainty that always followed one of her visions. "I saw him, in my dream. She came to me along with the dream. She spoke to me. I promised her that I would protect her child."

 _She?_  Kendappa frowns uneasily at this. Who could _she_  have been? The lady of Suwa, whom Kendappa knows by all sources to be a competent and powerful priestess? That seems most likely, but why not just say so?

Or is it possible that Tomoyo speaks of - spoke to - of someone else entirely? Perhaps the Witch of Time and Space that Kendappa had heard about sometimes, in snippets and stories more than in truth? If that is  _she_  of whom Tomoyo spoke, then what promises had been made on behalf of Kendappa's people, and what price would they have to pay in return?

Before Kendappa can ask more, they are interrupted by a shout from the scouts ahead; she sees the men waving wildly in the circle of torchlight and kicks her horse on ahead. It can't possibly be a demon, or else that scream would have been of a very different tenor...

It is a demon. A dead one. Slain by the sword, almost hacked into pieces with a savage fury. None of her own men did this, Kendappa knows.

Which means that her sister was right; there must be another survivor of Suwa up there somewhere. Not hiding in some cellar or closet, like she'd vaguely assumed, but strong enough and berserk enough to fight a demon single-handed and win. As a subject of Nihon, as an enemy of the demons, he must surely be a powerful ally - but the sheer ferocity by which the demon corpse was torn apart leaves Kendappa uneasy.

The light is growing stronger now, the sky turning from black to blue as grey light begins to fill up the world. Kendappa kicks her horse to a trot, moving to the front of the column. She's not at all certain she's looking forward to meeting this boy from Tomoyo's dreams.

* * *

_Now:_

"Princess Tomoyo?!" For just a moment, Kurogane's mind spun wildly with distrust and confusion. Demon tricks - but no, that could not be. He of all people knew the flavor of Tomoyo's magic; it was unmistakable, despite being so out of place. He ought to have recognized it sooner, but he wasn't expecting it  _here_  of all the places in this world.

"Kurogane," Tomoyo responded. Her expression was calm, demeanor unflappable as always, but Kurogane thought he detected a hint of surprise in her voice. He heard footsteps behind him, felt the familiar presences of his companions rejoining him. "Fai-san, Syaoran-kun. Mokona. It is good to see you again."

"How did you get here?" Kurogane demanded, surprise making him rude - well, ruder than usual.

"In a carriage, Kurogane," Tomoyo said, with the dry humor that sent a pang of familiarity through him. "We could not fit it inside the cave, so it's outside; you probably passed by it in the dark."

Kurogane shook his head in amazement, moving to sheathe his sword. There was a second rock chamber through the gap in the wall, lit by glittering lanterns and torches. Kurogane could sense their presences, now, which had been masked by the thick stone - no more than humans, they lacked the power to penetrate beyond such barriers.

Not like the demon presence he could  _still_  sense, somewhere deeper in the mountain. What was much stronger - and much, much older. "Princess, you shouldn't be here unprotected," he said. "This is demon territory - it's dangerous."

"I'm well aware of that," Tomoyo responded tartly. Before Kurogane could ask the next question -  _why_  she was here - the reunion was interrupted. Members of Tomoyo's retinue, handmaidens and ninja, came towards them, demanding to know his name and purpose. Kurogane saw Souma among the crowd, and supposed that she at least had the good sense to take the best warrior in the kingdom (aside from himself) along for protection.

"Peace," Tomoyo said to the guards, holding them back with an upraised hand. "This is no stranger, but a countryman and ally. He is welcome here, and his companions."

Despite himself, Kurogane was warmed by the statement of acceptance, of inclusion.

"But how did you know to meet us here?" Syaoran wanted to know. "Even we didn't know that we were about to change worlds, let alone that we would be returning  _here._  I thought… your visions of the future…" He ran down, his face flushing miserably as he cleared his throat. Kurogane gave him a brief scowl; he might not be a mage himself, but he knew from dealing with Fai just how personal and difficult it could be to talk about losing your magic.

"It's all right," Tomoyo assured the boy with a gentle smile to show him she was not offended. "You are correct, however; I am no longer burdened with visions of the future."

"Then how'd you know?" Kurogane asked. "That we would be here."

Tomoyo's smile faded slightly, and she gave Kurogane a look he couldn't decipher. "I didn't," she said. "There is… business of my own here, that I must attend to. Your presence is welcome here, but not anticipated."

"Nor accidental, I shouldn't think," Fai said, his lips twisting in a wry smile. "Mokona's magic is many things, but not chaotic or random. If she has brought us here in time for your errand, Princess, there must have been a reason for it."

Tomoyo considered this for a moment, her eyes slightly shadowed, and Kurogane began to feel the first stirrings of alarm. What _business_  could she possibly be talking about? The Tsukuyomi's duties were in the heart of the empire; she  _was_  the heart of the empire, along with her sister the empress. There should be no errand that took her out here, to the fringes of the wild and into the heart of a dangerous demon's lair.

"You may be right," Tomoyo said at last. "My dear friends, I am very sorry, but I must continue my work. I still have something very important to do, and the night is slipping away. You may stay here if you wish, or accompany me."

"We'll stay with you," Kurogane said, taking the lead of spokesman for their small group with no thought.

Tomoyo smiled again, her eyes twinkling at him. "Somehow I'm not surprised," she said.

She turned and walked away, her robes swishing around her as she went; not the usual formal robes of her office, Kurogane realized, but something much simpler and plainer. More practical for traveling, or - apparently - for spelunking.

The four of them joined her procession as they continued through the dark stone tunnels of the mountain, their way lit by the gleaming torches. Shadows swung wide as they passed each cross-tunnel and niche, only to fall back into darkness as they left them behind.

At last they came to a crack in the stone that led off at a steep downwards slope, and Tomoyo stopped. "This is where he will be," she said in a quiet voice. "And this is where we may speak. I must go, but it will be a small, cramped space; there will not be room for more than one or two others."

"I'll go with you," Kurogane volunteered immediately.

Tomoyo hesitated for a moment, and Kurogane glared at her, matching his will against hers. He had absolutely no intention of letting her go anywhere in this maze undefended. Bad enough that she was here in the first place. If she could only have one bodyguard, it had damn well better be the best.

Unexpectedly, Fai broke into the conversation. "I'll go, too, if you don't mind," he said, and smiled charmingly.

This prompted a murmur of displeasure from the cortege. "Princess, let me go instead," Souma protested. "Kurogane may be one of us, but the mage is a stranger."

"Oh, I'm not so strange as all that," Fai said with a breezy smile. "Nor am I as powerless as the last time we met, Miss Souma. I have a lot of experience handling demons, you know. I'm actually quite useful to have on hand, just in case…" Fai hesitated, and his blue eyes darted over to Kurogane, to Tomoyo and then back again. "Just in case anything goes wrong," he said.

Kurogane stared hard at his lover, but Fai refused to return his gaze, keeping his eyes steadily on Tomoyo instead. What was going on here? It was one thing for Fai to want to be at Kurogane's back in a fight, but there was more to it than that. An uneasy chill spread down his spine.

This was Kurogane's homeworld, Kurogane's princess, and the demons were Kurogane's lifelong enemies. What could Fai possibly know that Kurogane didn't?

"Very well," Tomoyo said at last, and the look she exchanged with Fai did nothing to relieve his growing uneasiness. She glanced at Kurogane once more, then turned towards the stone crack. Without a word Kurogane stepped in front of her, holding out an arm to bar her way, and then went into the dark passage ahead of her.

The way was uneven, dark and rough. He heard Tomoyo's light, uncertain footsteps following behind, and then Fai's bringing up the rear, speaking a few cheerful and encouraging words as he helped her down. After a few minutes of climbing - almost crawling, some of the time - he reached the bottom of the tunnel, and dropped lightly into the chamber beneath.

Tomoyo had been right about how small it was. It was only a few paces from side to side, a perfectly symmetrical bubble of stone carved out of the mountain's heart. The walls were smooth - unnaturally so - and a pale green sourceless light suffused the chamber. There was no sign of movement, although Kurogane felt rather than heard a deep vibration coming from further below their feet.

Scuffling from the passage alerted him, and he reached up to help Tomoyo lightly to the floor. Fai dropped down a moment later, and with the three of them the chamber felt intensely crowded. Kurogane's shoulders twitched with the feeling of claustrophobia, the uneasy realization that there was hardly enough room down here to draw, let alone fight. The only good thing about the situation was that there was no room in here for any demons, either.

"Well, now what?" he said aloud.

" _You are here_ ," an unearthly voice spoke out of the darkness, and Kurogane started violently. " _You are - heerrrrre_."

It was a voice that put him in mind of rocks grinding together to make music. Of one of those metal boxes in Piffle world that had spoken in flat, disjointed voices, pre-recorded words strung together in ways that would never have come from a true human's mouth.

The wall of the cave heaved to the side, and they realized that it had not really been a wall at all - the rough grey surface slid aside like a door, revealing a vast cold gulf leading further into the mountain. The creature whose flank had been pressed against this space, its skin taking the texture of stone, now shifted ponderously in the darkness beyond. The light couldn't illuminate the vast space beyond, only throwing desperate shadows into the void, but it was enough for the sheer  _size_  of the creature they faced to raise the hair on the back of Kurogane's neck.

At last the movement stopped, and Kurogane couldn't help but flinch back as a huge, monstrous face appeared before them instead. It was only a guess that it  _was_  the thing's face; it was broad as a barn door, the color and texture of stone, and nothing that resembled a human's features. But there were eyes, eyes as large as dinner plates that shifted and rolled as the creature moved - Kurogane counted at least three pairs, larger towards the middle and diminishing in size out towards the side. Masses of ragged, crumbled-looking lichen covered the top of the thing's head, trailing down to frame the stone-colored face. Hot gusts of fetid air rolled over them to the sound of breathing, and great stone teeth flashed almost at the bottom of their vision as it spoke.

" _Humansssss_ ," the sepulchral voice said again. Some sounds came out of that vast mouth distorted and strange, weirdly rolled R's or elongated S's, but despite that the diction of that rolling voice was more precise than Kurogane would have expected. " _Humans were not always ourrrrrr enemies_."

"It's a demon," Kurogane said in a low voice, barely controlled with panic. It was a stunningly obvious statement, he knew, but he had never heard one speak before. "But it's talking. How is it talking?"

 _"We are as old as the mountains themselves; we were here long before the humans washed up on our shorrrres,"_  the voice rolled out over them. Kurogane couldn't tell if it was in response to his question, or some pre-rehearsed speech. _"We were born out of the darknessss between the stars, in the heart of the mountains. We are the born of the old magic, formless and wild. We are chaossss."_

"As hard as it may be to accept," Tomoyo said in her gentle voice, "There is truth in her words."

" _Her?"_  Kurogane gestured towards the monstrosity, incredulous. "That thing is female?"

"Yes." Tomoyo turned her gaze back towards the face, her gaze calm. "She is the last of the great queens of the race. Those we call _youkai_ , or demons, inhabited the land long before our ancestors came here. The oldest histories say that the first Tsukuyomi learned the art of dreamseeing from a  _youkai_  princess."

 _"Humans learned much from us in those days,"_  the demon continued on. The voice was deep as a well, rough and grinding - yet now that the suggestion had been planted, somehow he couldn't help but hear the voice as somehow  _female,_  see the inhuman visage before him with the hint of an ancient old woman.  _"And we learned much from you. We soon had rrrreason to be glad of you humans, because you gave us the one thing we could not give oursssselves: stability. For hundreds of yearssss, our peoples lived in peace."_

"Peace!" Kurogane spat, hatred and fury temporarily overriding his confusion and wariness. Fai put a hand on Kurogane's shoulder, but he shrugged it off angrily. "Bull fucking shit! Demons like this one have been attacking the outer provinces for as long as I've been alive! They live to kill, they  _eat_  what they kill - these things don't know the meaning of  _peace."_

"Those were lesser  _youkai,_  younger and unformed," Tomoyo's implacable voice said. "This one was not among those that harried your homestead."

"She's still one of them!" Kurogane's anger flared. "Whether she  _personally_  killed and ate my countrymen or not, what does that matter? She's a  _demon_  just like the rest of them and they're vermin who don't deserve to live! Why are we standing here  _talking_ instead of killing it?!"

 _"My children,"_  the demon said, and a huge breath rattled through a massive throat before she spoke on. " _My children were rrrraised in your houses: you gave them human garments to shape their bodies, human wordssss to shape their tongues, human thoughts to shape their brains. In exchange, I gave you… much. Children strong and hale, magic potent, and wisdom of the old ways."_

"Kuro-sama, please be calm," Fai's voice came from beside him, quiet and pleading. "Can't you see there's no need for that? She's ancient. You can feel the power guttering out of her. She's already dying."

Kurogane didn't have Fai's special vision for power, but it was easy enough to see the signs of decay. The stone-grey skin wasn't just rough, but pitted and cracked from age; it might once have been black, like the demons that had ravaged Suwa, but time had covered it with a patina of light grey as if with rime or rust. The huge, staring round eyes were filmed over with white, staring sightlessly ahead as the smaller dark eyes on the size blinked and shifted in an attempt to focus.

"I'm not sure she even sees us here," Fai said softly. "Listen. She doesn't seem to be responding to us at all, she's just talking to herself."

 _"But then you began to shut us out,"_  the demon hissed. _"You cast us from your homes, turned ussss from your doorrrrs. You no longer fosssstered my children in exchange for your own, you no longer shaped my children with your civilization, your expectation, your education."_

For an inhuman beast whose mouth was not even the right shape to make all the correct sounds, Kurogane had to admit that she had a pretty good elocution.

_"Without that, my children grew wild and unsightly, unbound and unforrrrmed. They became dumb, and soon reverted to our ancient nature: that of bloodshed, violence and hungerrrr."_

Kurogane made an ugly, satisfied noise of agreement in his throat, and turned away. Even if Fai was right, even if he couldn't quite stomach the thought of spearing a senile old animal in its dying throes, he was still revolted by this decaying monster and her tortured inhuman whispers.

 _"It is too late to mend the wayssss between our people,"_  she said, and her alien voice was weary with the sorrow of centuries _. "I am old, and soon I will be no more. But I have kept my bargain with you, reader of starssss. I have sheltered your forsaken child, as you have sheltered mine."_

Kurogane was the first to see the flicker out of the corner of his eye, as he was steadfastly avoiding looking at the demon herself. His head whipped around and he stared hard at the wall of the cave beside them. It was flat and unnaturally smooth, something that might have caught his notice earlier if not for the distraction of the demon; but now it began to glow with an eerie yellow-green light in the center.

The stone wall began to give way, solid rock melting away from the center as though eaten by acid. What remained was a smooth, translucent oblong of stone, half Kurogane's height tall and twice that long.  _An egg?_  Kurogane thought wildly. The damn demon was talking about  _children,_  what else could it be? A demon egg?

"Tomoyo, get back," Kurogane said sharply, stepping around her in the cramped enclosure of the cave to put himself between the other two and the egg. "If we're about to have a baby fucking demon in here, I'll take care of it. You two stay back -"

"Kurogane, no!" Tomoyo exclaimed, but he ignored her. A faint glow emanated from the translucent block, enough to outline an irregular shadow within it. Definitely an egg, or a cocoon, or whatever, and the pale calcite was melting away even as they watched. He drew his sword, intensely conscious of the limited space to swing - on the other hand, it wasn't like the creature could lunge past him without impaling itself on his blade. Not that he intended to give it the chance.

_"Now I will return to the earth. Now I will returrrn what I took, many years ago. Now I die, and I leave my legacy to my lasssst, my greatest, my most beloved child."_

"Kurogane, stop," Fai said, his voice tense and breathless. To Kurogane's shock, Fai actually grabbed onto his sword arm, holding him with a strength that kept him from being able to swing.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed, trying to free his arm. "You heard her! She's about to unleash some crazy ultra-demon on us!"

"Just wait," Fai said in a low voice, staring intently at the lambent glow of the scene before him. He took a shaky breath as if to explain, but then let it out and shook his head. His hands tightened on Kurogane's arm. "Just wait," he repeated.

A dull, grinding roar began to echo through the chamber as the demon moved again, her enormous body twisting and sliding against the stone walls of the mountain. A rush of air blew through the tunnel and away as the demon sighed, and then the monstrous head shifted and disappeared from view. The voice came back one more time, faint and low and hissing, wending its way up the corridors into their ears.

_"Goodbye, my son."_

Then all movement ceased, echoes of scales over rock pattering through the tunnels and fading away. The only sound remaining was that of the grinding, laborious breathing of the dying creature as the last of that ancient life slowly leaked away.

As the sound of breathing faded, so too did the last of the wards that the demon's will had kept in place in the small chamber. The lurid glow of the 'egg' leached away, and as it did the translucent surface crumbled into nothing. Finally the last of the barrier dissolved into dust onto the stone floor, revealing -

A human figure curled on the ground, legs tucked up to its chest as if in slumber.

Kurogane took a half-step back, the point of his sword dipping towards the ground in uncertainty. The stranger in the egg looked like a boy, a young man in his late teens or early twenties; he had the dusky skin and ink-black hair common to Kurogane's countrymen. His chest rose and fell evenly; there were no wounds visible on his body. "What is this?" Kurogane said, uncertainty infecting his voice. Why was there a human in the heart of a demon lair? A prisoner, or some kind of sadistic demon meal saved for later…?

Tomoyo brushed past him, and it was a measure of Kurogane's uneasiness that he was not able to stop her until she was already stooping to kneel beside the boy's head. As she reached out towards him, protective urges reasserted themselves. "Tsukuyomi, don't!" he said urgently, taking a step forward and reaching out towards her. "He could be dangerous, he could be a demon in disguise -"

"He's not a demon, Kurogane," Tomoyo said, her voice preternaturally calm. "The legends tell us of human babies stolen from their cribs by demons, to raise them as their own in the underworld. They would exchange the human babes for children of their own, enchanted to resemble the humans they replaced in form but not in spirit."

_"What?"_

Kurogane couldn't process what she'd said; that made no sense. Everyone knew demons would carry babies off to eat them, but what was this bullshit about leaving demon children in their place? That was complete nonsense, that was impossible…

He stared at Tomoyo, willing her to make some kind of sense again; but her eyes weren't on him, she was gazing intently on the figure before her, slowly beginning to stir towards wakefulness.

"It was to find him and bring him home that I came here today," Tomoyo said softly. "When the Mother died, our contract was completed, and I knew he would be returned to us. I did not know that you would be here this day as well. If I could have, I would have spared you from seeing this, but I suppose it was inevitable that you would find out someday."

"Find out what?" Kurogane's voice broke, and he clamped down on it with ruthless self control. "Tsukuyomi - Tomoyo - what are you talking about?"

She glanced up at him for a moment, and her deep violet eyes were brimming over with compassion and sorrow. She said nothing, but returned her gaze a moment later to the still figure before her.

His were shaking, he realized. He barely felt his lover press tightly against his side, sharing warmth and steadiness as Fai's hand closed over his and squeezed. Without Fai's silent support, he could never have taken the stumbling step forward, far enough to see the face of the boy lying on the stone floor.

The face that was identical to his own.

The boy - the demon, the  _not-Kurogane -_  shifted on the stone floor, a terribly familiar-looking expression of disgruntlement flitting over his features. He was not as young as Kurogane had first thought; he'd been misled by the young man's height, several inches shorter than even Fai. He took a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered open, staring unseeingly at the stone ceiling above.

His eyes were brown.

"This is Suwa no You-ou, son and heir of the house of Suwa," Tomoyo said quietly, raising one soft white hand to touch his brow. "He was taken from his home years ago, when the demon mother came upon him alone and undefended in the burning ruins of Suwa and stole him away. She drove the other demons - her other children - away from him, and brought him here to lay him in an enchanted sleep in the manner of her kind."

She looked back up at him, pinning him in place - all six and a half feet of him, inhumanly strong, driven ever since that day with insatiable bloodlust and love for destruction - and her violet eyes met his red ones.

"And you, Kurogane, are the changeling child she left in his place."

* * *

_Soon:_

The sun rises and lights up the mountain face in an unforgiving haze of pale gold, and yet it does nothing to warm the icy stone slopes or the curling wisps of cold fog that cling to its surface. The guards who'd been left to watch over the carriage, to watch over the entrance to the cave, nonetheless greet dawn's light with profound relief.

At length the group that had disappeared into the mountainside returns, their faces solemn and grave. Princess Tomoyo, her escorts and servants; Souma, her soldiers and ninja; and a handful of others, too. They carry between them a litter, supporting a stranger who had not been with them when they went down into the caves with them last night. It takes some time to get him loaded into the bed of the carriage, which was brought here against the rough and uneven slopes for just that purpose.

It takes yet more time for the whole procession to reverse itself, for the horses to be readied and the carriage wheels unfrozen and the princess tucked back into her careful protected envelope - but by the time they set off again, moving at a slow crawl over the steep mountainside, the sun has still not yet warmed the frozen stone. They move slowly, solemn and reverent, like a funeral train.

Not until they are almost out of sight among the trees do three other figures finally emerge from the mouth of the cave, and set themselves with heavy hearts and heavy steps to follow.


End file.
